A Spin in the Straw
by Chyme for the Rhyme
Summary: It's not even the 'morning after'. In fact, right now, it's a just few hours before the main act. Minutes, even. Which means there's still time for someone to back out, to listen for the jump of nerves in their stomach and say, 'no way, not tonight.' Right?


Ben woke up and froze. There was a lump at his back, and a mountain that breathed behind him, the duvet stretched over the gap between them with barely a crease to cover their closeness.

Ben cursed. He cursed a lot of things. Like Rook's height, and his strength, and the way air from his lungs fell against Ben's neck and made itself at home there, stirring the top of his spine with warmth. It lingered, rolling like a careful drop of snow, and for a moment Ben lay there, lulled by the steady in-out rhythm of the body beside him. It didn't even smell rank, the way Ben imagined the breath from big cats to stink, after they had lain panting in the sun for a while.

Then he shook himself. What was he doing?

Carefully, he dug a leg out from beneath one of Rook's, wincing as the fur slid and fell away from his own skin like a wave, rolling free. He waited for the thud of muscle as it hit the bed before he sighed, his mouth half-muffled by the mattress as he pulled the rest of himself away, patting Rook's hand roughly as it flopped off his stomach.

 _God._ What had he been doing?

Stumbling, he re-traced his way to the bathroom, nearly losing his balance on fabric that rose up from the floor like makeshift bird nests, fighting, as the creases caught at his toes; and then he was suddenly wading through a world where the door had fallen away, out into a distance that comprised of miles instead of metres. And yet, a few frightening seconds later, he fell through the frame, the door opening and closing with a whoosh that he had grown to love through the years, a whoosh that felt, if not sounded, so much quieter that the squeaks his bedroom door back home let escape.

He breathed and waited; but, as far as he could tell, there was no sudden stir of movement from the bed beyond, and no sleep-worn voice calling out his name. Sighing, he fumbled for the light, before, with another careful glance at the door, he tugged at it and the bathroom instantly blinked into life with a faint blue glow, a careful hum running beneath the buzz in the panels overhead. Ben rolled his eyes. _Spaceships._

But then he blinked. And stared. And the sight of his reflection pulled him in, revealing a slender ghost with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some worn-out space waif with a necklace of bite-marks staining his skin. It was like a jolt ran through Ben at the sight and he stared at the punctures in his skin, each mark running into a little welt of red as they arranged themselves into groups of semi-circles, tiny slashes playing around his throat like some ghoulish labelling system gone wrong.

Ben didn't whimper. Oh no, not him. But he did back away, hands fumbling for the door as his eyes zoomed in on each bite, picturing the scrape of teeth near his jugular and the way the canines must have flashed even in the dark. It felt more dream than memory now, but he thought he could remember the roll of breath that must have accompanied the action, and the quick flick of tongue that had touched each wound as he bit out a brief, annoyed 'ow' under the muted light in their room, salvia lathering each bite in the form of an apology. And, amazingly enough, he hadn't even been grossed out at the time...

This revelation was a little too much to take and he backed away again, his fingers touching space and then fur, before he spun round with a sinking heart. He hadn't even heard the door 'whoosh' open, but there it was, a big yawning space with Rook spilling into the gap.

Rook, for his part, frowned. And then yawned.

'Are you not cold?' he asked, pointing at Ben's chest and causing the other boy to yelp and look round in a panic.

'Where's my shirt?!'

'On the floor, I presume.' Rook shrugged, looking a little sheepish as Ben glared. 'It was in the way and at the time, you thought it best to remove it.'

Ben buried his face into his palms, thankful, that whatever else had happened, he was still in his boxers.

'Uh, Rook? Don't take this the wrong way or anything...but HOW ARE YOU SO CALM!'

Rook blinked a little at the outburst, muffled as it was by Ben's hands, and then frowned. 'Why would I not be? There is no shame in fornication if both parties enjoy the act.' An anxious look bobbed onto his face and Ben, peering up at him from between his fingers, felt his stomach turn. Even now, after everything, he was weak to that face. 'Ben? Have I...I know some humans find sex shameful, but is there some cultural taboo involved that I do not understand?'

Ben swallowed, forcing himself to be brave, brave enough to lift his face away from his fingers. 'No,' he managed. 'Dude, just, no. It's not that, okay?'

Although, maybe it was a little bit _that_. Ben couldn't deny that there wasn't a little voice inside him squealing 'oh my God, oh my God, oh my God' at the situation in hand, even if it did make him feel like a jerk. And it wasn't because Rook was an alien, because _hello_ , Ben was one eighth 'alien' himself, and far more than that on his work days, and Grandpa and Grandma, for all their faults, had managed to make it work between them at a time when the revelation of what Verdona was could have sent shockwaves round the world.

'I like girls!' he burst out, 'okay! I like human-looking, non-furry girls!'

Rook raised an eyebrow. 'I am aware. But you must also like me as well, or I would never have managed to take you for a 'spin in the straw'.'

He even managed to sound shirty about it.

'You mean 'a roll in the hay', man,' said Ben miserably. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could slam his palm down on the Omnitrix right now, and it would give him Gutrot. Then both of them could forget what happened last night. 'And don't. It's not like 'we went all the way' or whatever.'

Rook frowned again, no doubt perturbed by the human expression. 'We did not go anywhere,' he said slowly, as though Ben was being particularly thick-headed. 'We just did some 'making out' as I believe it is called, or some 'necking,' if you wish to be pedantic about the terminology. Unless – oh. Oh.' His eyes became very round, wide and startled, like an owl's and if Ben peered closely enough, he could even see the way they were blown into brilliance, into a form of gold that sparked. 'Are you referring to penetrative intercourse? Or perhaps intercrural?'

Ben threw his hands up in the air. 'I don't even know what that last one means! Argh! Forget it!'

He made to brush past Rook, knowing that the other would step aside, as always. What he was not expecting, was the sudden way fur glided over his arm to settle against his skin, fingers bigger than his own hooking round to tighten at the point where a nest of veins rose up to shudder at the touch. Ben felt them there, like a heartbeat, a stab of heat in his throat as he was pulled round to face Rook's grave expression, his wrist trapped in the other's hand.

'I do not want to forget,' said Rook, and Ben started, caught off guard for the second time by Rook's other hand, gently gliding up to brush aside his hair and nestle at his neck, gentle drops of heat radiating from his fingertips. 'And neither, I think, do you.'

Ben let out a nervous giggle. 'What were we last night? Drunk? Are we still drunk?'

'Maybe on endorphin,' said Rook, smiling softly. 'Besides: you are underage.'

'Not for much longer. I'm turning eighteen, soon, remember?'

'Yes.' Rook nodded gravely. 'I recall. Maybe that is why you kissed me last night. Some last minute spur of selfishness.'

Ben's jaw dropped. 'No way. I kissed you first?'

Rook nodded again, his smile curving off to rise into a steeper, smugger slant.

Ben groaned, letting his head fall forward to knock against the ruff of white that seemed to explode out of Rook's chest. What the hell. The guy had already raked his teeth across his throat, after all. What difference would leaning against his chest do now?

'Are you sure we weren't drunk?'

'Quite sure.'

Rook's fingers moved down, caressing his ribs lightly before they moved, drifting over to rest on his spine. They played a gentle melody there, running down into the groves that Ben's bones wedged into the skin, as the fur lapped, like the repetitive coil of a tongue, at all the fine ledges that dived out beneath his touch, soaring into small steps for him to rest his nails against. Ben felt them press in there, the large hand above curving, like a small snake shifting on sand, scales sliding, falling, grinding against his skin, fur against flesh. He couldn't even bring himself to stiffen.

'Duuude,' he whined, lifting his face enough to see the smugness lift from his partner's smile. 'This is just weeeeird.'

Rook's hand froze. 'Why?' he asked, but there was a grim firmness in the bite of the word, one that made Ben shift uncomfortably.

'Well,' he muttered, 'you have a girlfriend. And I have...'

He paused. Well, no, he didn't have Kai. And the idea that he was going to, because people in the future told him he was, wasn't really a good excuse for saying he couldn't do anything, ever, with other people, in the present day.

'I don't have anything,' he said firmly. 'But you do.'

Rook's hand made its escape from his skin and Ben shivered, telling himself that he didn't miss the bite of its warmth, no, not at all.

'I like Rayona,' said Rook firmly, his voice coming out in a low rumble; from his angle down below, Ben could almost pretend it was a growl. 'And she likes me. It has always been this way. But...I...we...' He hesitated, then spoke more firmly. 'We go on dates. We speak and our conversation is a pleasing thing, full of her quaint curiosity and, in her own way, she always reminds me of my home. But perhaps that is because she has always been a part of it, since we were very young. I do not think we will ever grow apart and yet, it is not she that I want.' Rook smiled, and this time, it was sad. 'You are mistaken, if you believe her to be unaware of the issue between us. Unlike you, I actually _talk_ to the women in my life.'

Ben paused. He felt unresolved, the bathroom light in his eyes as his hand reached out through the blue wash of it, to land on fur, only a few slight shades darker. And yet, it was one that pressed in on his vision more firmly, dragging his hand along with it, as his fingers pulled through, with not a tangle to soften his stance against.

'Alright,' he said, as he felt his voice tighten within his throat. 'Okay. Let's do this.'

He felt Rook hesitate for a moment. And then, carefully, as though he were afraid, Ben would duck and weave away, his hand came down to stroke against the familiar ridge of his partner's back, settling there like a promise.

And when they fell back against the bed again, the whoosh of the bathroom door sliding away into silence behind them, Ben felt his nerves catch fire, burning into a wriggle of pain along the line of his stomach.

But that was fine. It wouldn't have felt right, if he hadn't been afraid at all. Rook deserved trepidation. Actually, he deserved better. But, then again, with a tongue ramming its way down his throat, Ben wasn't convinced that he could argue the case.

Besides, hours, or maybe minutes later, the fur was pulling at his hands like it was alive, twisted into his fingers with gnarled knots that made the perfect handholds, perfect, while Rook licked and bit and thrust, pinning him down with a gravity that lacked the thin, sweaty sheen of human skin. Oh, there was still sweat, of course. Ben felt it, rivets of it, tacked onto his fingertips like glue as he wedged them down deeper, into all that blue. And black. He looked for that colour, the way it arose in dark wedges, lifted, with each ripple that coursed through the chest above him, each twisting thrust of the back his fingers could only half-find in the dark. But when what little light there was caught them, he found them, those stripes, even amongst the haze of pleasure and the nips of pain, and he fixed his hands onto them as though they were landing pads, like they were the beginning of little runways for his arm to find and crawl along, to give Rook the best parody of a hug he could manage when things got a little too intense.

'We can stop,' Rook panted at that point, his eyes barely touching yellow as his pupils shot out into the darkness, like miniature moons. 'If that is what you want. We can stop, Ben.'

But Ben shook his head each time, and buried his head into the chest above, feeling it press down into his hair with a rumble that felt like the earth moving, dragging him along with it.

'All right,' Rook breathed, or gasped, or maybe both. 'All right.'

And then he dipped his head down again, maybe to bring his teeth down against the huff of breath that rose from Ben's lips, to make the attempt to capture it before it left his throat, pinning the side of his heaving neck with a quick nip of pain.

'Hey,' said Ben, 'if I scar, I'm gonna be mad.'

And secretly, he wondered if there wasn't something a little bit wrong with him, to be okay with this, with his alien partner morphing into a wannabe vampire.

'Gwen could teach you to wear concealer,' Rook said softly, his fingers drifting down, to swipe into the space between them, cracking trails of sweat down Ben's shaking legs, hooked as they were, into a stance meant to brace against him; crooked into sharp cuts of flesh against his heaving sides, like brackets without curves.

'Gah!' Ben glared at him, for not playing fair, not buying, for one second, that oh-so-innocent look resting on Rook's face. 'Oh, sure, and maybe she co-Argh!'

He threw his head back, into the pillow, far enough to do more than crease. In fact he could felt it opening up into crevice round his skull, something to bury himself in, to muffle the noise sparking through his veins, the unsteady thump, thump, thump of his heart. Only he felt it jack-start again, like a hammer, soaring down into the parts of him not touched by the brush of Rock's fur, as the body above him moved, tightness trembling into warmth as something pushed in, to knock at the nerves he had never really bothered to disturb before, in a nudge that sent him free-falling.

Ben was not sure afterwards if he screamed. But if he didn't, it was a damn near thing.

* * *

'So,' he said, hours afterwards, his fingers ruffling patterns into Rook's stomach fur; if he concentrated, he could possibly hash out a game of noughts and crosses there. 'Was it any good for you?'

Rook laughed, a deep, almost hysterical thing that knocked Ben's fingers free from his fur, leaving his partner to frown stupidly at the way the possibility of his invisible game had been disturbed.

'Well,' said the Revonnahgander, his grin lighting up half the room (even if Ben was still too busy glaring at his stomach to see it). 'There was no hay actually involved, though I do recall a fair bit of rolling. But I hope I managed to rock your planet, regardless.'

Ben stopped. Blinked. And let his eyes travel up, from white fur, to orange eyes.

'Sure,' he said, allowing his frown to smooth over into a smile. 'That, and a few other things as well, buddy.'

* * *

I keep revising and re-writing parts of this, and I'm still unsure if I'm happy with it. Oh well.

Edit: Aaaand it was at this point that I realised I had left some contractions in Rook's dialogue. Hopefully I caught them all this time.


End file.
